


As the Telling Signs of Age

by EirinnGoBragh12



Category: Backstrom (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-04 06:06:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20466251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EirinnGoBragh12/pseuds/EirinnGoBragh12
Summary: Valentine brings a stranger home to the barge, who turns out to be not so nice after all.Peter, thankfully, also turns out to be not so heterosexual after all.I feel like  if you've read my other stuff, the author name is warning enough. Very bad things happen.





	1. Chapter 1

Valentine opened the door to his bedroom, leading in the guy he’d picked up at the club. Not his usual type, six foot, muscular body builder type, rippling muscles everywhere, sharp hazel eyes, and blond hair - the guy had pursued him hard, and one of Val’s friends had dropped molly into Val’s drink, so he was feeling good, adventurous. It was starting to wear off, and he wanted to ride out the sensation. ‘--Mike or maybe Jack-- Val couldn’t quite remember his name, and blamed his emerging sobriety for even being curious. ‘Jack’ pushed him up against the bedroom wall, lifting Valentine easily and Val wrapped his legs around what’s his name’s waist. Tongue on tongue, Val could barely breathe, his hands pawing at the guy’s clothing… 

“You taste good,” the guy moaned, his hand drifting to Val’s neck, his mouth nipping at his throat. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” he growled. 

“Promises, promises,” Val returned, the guy spun them, dropping them on the bed, and Val went for his pants, popping buttons, as the guy slid out of his pants, then pushed Val back on the bed. He devoured Val’s mouth, kissing, biting, sucking at flesh, leaving marks. Val returned the favor, savoring the flesh above him, the pawing had lost some of its appeal now that his skin wasn’t all buzzy with ecstasy now that the pill had worn off. 

“Hey,” Val snapped as the guy bit too hard, Val pushed him, and the guy pushed back. “Easy,” Val said.

“I thought you wanted it hard,” the guy said shoving Val onto his back and pressing Val’s hands above his head. 

“I don’t want to need a tetanus shot,” Val said, trying to free his hands. “Let go,” Val said firmly. 

“Don’t be like that,” the guy said, covering Val with kisses, and Val relaxed a little, but the guy bit him again, hard.

“Get off me, we’re done,” Val said, trying to get up. 

“You fucking tease, we’re not done,” he snapped back. Val suddenly decided maybe it had been common sense that had kept him from being particularly attracted to men much larger than him. Val had developed a sense of safety at the barge with Backstrom, but his brother wasn’t home just now.

“Stop,” Val said.

“Stop,” the guy mimicked in a whiny voice. Val started to struggle and the guy fought back, pressing Val into the mattress, using one hand to pin Val’s hands while he removed Valentine’s pants. “You’re gonna love this,” he promised, 

“I live with a cop, get the fuck off me,” Val said more forcefully and he got one hand free, shoving the guy and when he didn’t move, Val hit him. 

“Oh you do like it rough,” the guy took his actions as invitation rather than rejection and he slapped Valentine hard, Val’s head snapped to the side, and he tasted blood in his mouth. Before he recovered, the jerk used one hand to pin Val’s wrists above his head, and the other hand went to Val’s throat squeezing. 

“Stop!” Val said, twisting and trying to slip out of his grasp. 

“You ever pass out in the middle of sex, it’s fucking amazing,” the guys said, but he let go of Val’s neck to grab his own cock and guide it into Valentine. Val flinched when the guy shoved himself inside, deep and hard, Val tried to protest as the hand went back to his throat, squeezing as the guy pounded away. “Keep moving, you feel so fucking good,” he encouraged, his voice deep with lust as he slammed into Val again and again. Val stopped moving then - there was little point in struggling and he damn well wasn’t going to make it more fun for the guy. It was easier to get the guy off than it was to try to go toe to toe with him. Val closed his eyes and tried not to think, it hurt, but it could be worse, probably would be if he fought back more. It was over fast, and the guy collapsed on top of him, momentarily easing the pressure on Val’s hands, and Val yanked his hands free and shoved the guy. 

“Come on, I’ll do you,” he said, trying to reach between Valentine’s legs, but Val pushed his hand away and retreated to the head of the bed, his back hitting the wall. The guy tried to stroke Val’s cheek, and Val slapped the hand away, staring with seething hatred. 

“Get out,” Val said. 

“Oh stop it,” the guy said pulling on his clothes, “you liked it, you were all over me.” Val shook his head. The guy pulled back his hand as if to strike again, “don’t start something you don’t want to finish,” he threatened. Val pressed himself further back, refusing to cower. “You’re a bitch,” the guy said, after securing his clothing. Val watched him leave, heard him stomp up the stairs. Then Val released his breath.

“Stupid,” he muttered as he put his head on his knees, curling up in the bed. Val knew he shouldn’t have brought that guy home. Val hurt, saw blood where the guy had bitten him, saw some blood splotches on the mattress. Val averted his gaze. He hadn’t been with someone, like that since he’d moved into Backstrom’s. Val wiped at his eyes, and made his way into the shower, washing away the grime he felt, noted the pinkish tone to the water as he washed his back and legs. He felt tender, at least the guy had used a condom. Val put his hands on the shower wall. He had better instincts than this. “Stupid,” he muttered again, mad that he’d brought the guy home. 

Valentine wrapped a towel around his waist, and made his way out of the bathroom. Val froze, Peter Niedermayer was standing in the kitchen.

“The door was unlocked,” Peter said quickly, looking at Valentine, then looking away, then looking back and away again. “Sorry, Backstrom said to get his bag.” Peter held up a satchel Backstrom had brought home, he knew it had to do with one of the cases the team was working on, but it wasn’t one Backstrom needed his help or his particular area of expertise. Val smiled at how easily Peter was thrown off by his semi-nakedness. 

“Its fine,” Val said, not up to his usual sexual pursuit. Peter stepped into his way though, his hand going out to Val’s face, and drifting down to his neck.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, his hand touching Valentine’s eye where the guy had hit him, Peter was leaning in, squinting. 

“Yeah,” Val said, moving his hand away, and side stepping him, drifting into his room. Val closed the door and dressed quickly adding one of his scarves to cover his neck. He reapplied his makeup, and then stripped his sheets. He came out and Peter was still there. 

“I just wanted to make sure, let me help,” Peter offered, opening the washer, and Val pushed the sheets in quickly, but Peter hesitated. “Is that blood?” he asked.

“Doesn’t Backstrom need that bag?” Val returned, adding detergent and shutting the lid. Peter watched him, and Val deliberately didn’t make eye contact, as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, his hands on either side, holding the edges. 

Peter’s hand tentatively touched Val’s arm. “I’d like to think we’re friends,” Peter said softly, looking down, not meeting Valentine’s eyes either. “And if you’re in trouble.” Peter’s hand went to where the mark was, now covered, his hand falling farther to the scarf pushing it down gently, exposing the bruises momentarily.

“Things just got a little out of hand, I’m fine,” Val said, but he leaned into Peter’s caress. Peter impulsively hugged him, and Val tensed, unfamiliar with this sort of physicality, it was like, Val didn’t have a word for it, but for just a moment, he felt safe, and his hands intuitively hugged back, going under Peter’s arms and resting between his shoulder blades, his face pressed to his chest - God he smelled good, masculine and clean, Val closed his eyes and for just a moment he felt a little better. Peter’s own hands were on Val’s back, not coping a feel, not trying to grab his ass, Val just didn’t know many platonic huggers. Peter’s cheek was pressed to Val’s head, and Val counted to ten, even as he enjoyed - the comfort, was that the sensation?-, Val felt weak for accepting it. The only way he knew how to get rid of Peter was to flirt with him, so Val turned his face to Peter’s neck and kissed his pulse point. It was Peter’s turn to tense, and he stepped back, his hands still on Val’s forearms, as Val offered him a seductive smile. 

“If you need anything,” Peter said, retreating further.

“Anything?” Val asked, his eyes drifting half closed, so he could watch Peter from fluttered lashes. Peter stepped back in and it was Val who retreated back at the suddenness of it. Peter’s hand went to either side of the counter and he leaned in close, his mouth inches from Valentine’s. 

“I think,” Peter said, his eyes intense and sincere, “that we have a misunderstanding. You think I’m not gay or bi or into men,” Peter said, nodding, his lips almost touching Valentine’s. “I like you a lot, I fantasize about you a lot,” Peter said, and he turned his head, his lips a breath away as he whispered in Val’s ear. “When you visit the station, and sit on my desk, I think about bending you over it, being behind you, making you come,” Peter said, and his breath was shallow, warm against Val’s skin. Val swallowed, arousal kicking into high gear, he tilted his head back, looking up at Peter with desire in his eyes. Peter certainly had hidden depths. 

“And,” Peter said, his eyes returning to Valentine’s, “the trouble is, that after all of that,” Peter said, his mouth close to Valentine’s again, “I fantasize about holding your hand, going back to my place, watching television, cuddling, going to dinner, talking for hours on end, seeing each other, dating,” Peter said, “and I know that’s not who you are,” Peter said and there was a hint of longing. He withdrew a little then, watching Valentine whose eyes flicked to his. “I stay away because I am attracted to you Valentine, and you’re Backstrom’s brother and we’re going to see each other all the time. I wouldn’t do well as a conquest,” Peter said, and he kissed Val on the neck. He pulled away, grabbing the bag. The back of his hand brushing Valentine’s cheek - arm’s length away. “If you need anything-besides a fling,” Peter said, and he left then. 

Val felt confused, and he rubbed his head, a headache starting to form. Tonight was just - unexpected. Val did lock the door then, not sure when Backstrom was coming home, not wanting any other visitors. Val remade his bed and laid down on the sheets, burying his head in a pillow, curling onto his side, he had strange dreams about violent jocks and gentle detectives.


	2. Lying Liars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything got better, just kidding.
> 
> Val was planning to just let it be another bad memory locked away in his mind. There was no point in reporting it anyway, but a misunderstanding changes all of that. There will be no rest for the wary.

But seldom do these words ring true, When I'm constantly failing you...

***

Valentine brought pizza to the station. It had been two days, and he barely saw the team or his brother. Backstrom was stressed about a case, and obsessed. He wouldn’t talk to Valentine about it. Val saw Peter sitting at his desk, and he remembered Peter’s words. So he set the pizza down, bent over the desk casually leaning all the way across to grab a pen, he saw Peter’s lips turn up in a smile, but he kept his head down, pretending to study the paperwork. As Val unfurled from his desk, Peter glanced up from under his lashes, and smiled briefly. Val was pretty sure there was a hint of lust in that look, but it disappeared as quickly as it had emerged. Val smiled back and went in search of Backstrom. Val gave his brother the beer he had hidden in his bag, and a slice of pizza. Backstrom took both without looking and kept studying the images in front of him.

Val sat on Paquet’s desk after exchanging kisses on the cheek with her, and a few words in French. The team studied the board, and Val vaguely overheard them talking about connections, but he watched instead. He sat back on the desk, as the team speculated about different theories, pointing, turning, having ah’ha moments and then disappointment. They paced and studied, Backstrom kept making headache face, which often meant he was close, but missing something. They worked well together. Val chewed his pizza. There was noise in the bullpen next to theirs. SCU had their own dividers, but they were connected to the other departments. 

“He’s a fucking liar,” Val heard, and he peaked around the divider. He saw the guy from the other night. 

“We just want to ask questions, you’re not under arrest,” the officer was saying. The guy took a seat, huffy and indignant. He let his head fall back and he caught Val’s eye then. Val looked away, but his eyes flashed back up as the guy started towards him.

“You,” he snapped, and Val scrambled off the desk, as the guy got to him, grabbing both sides of Val’ shirt front by the fistful, “you fucking liar, did you tell them I forced you, you fucking liked it!” he was yelling, Val got his foot between them and kicked the guy back, Val rolled backwards, and jumped off the other side of the desk. “You fucking tell them!” the guy snapped, starting to pursue Valentine around the desk, but Gravely was there, on the desk, and she was on the guys back, dropping him to the ground, and cuffing him, Peter joining her, his knee in the guys back and then Moto was lifting him off the ground. “His brother is a cop,” the guy said, “this is a set up. I didn’t force him.” 

Val drifted further back, his eyes on the guy, but he could see out of the corner of his eye the team watching him, Backstrom coming to Valentine’s side. 

“What’s going on?” Backstrom asked, his eyes darting between Valentine, the perp and the officer who had been questioning him. 

“I don’t know,” the officer said. 

“He’s a liar,” the guy said, gesturing to Valentine. 

“About what?” the officer asked. The guy went silent then, looking at Valentine and the other officer’s. Val tried to blend into the background, his eyes on the guy in front of him. Val felt his heart racing, and he could feel Backstrom watching him, gleaning god knows what. The team kept looking at him, and at Val. 

“Book him, and put him in interrogation,” Backstrom snapped, grabbing Val’s elbow and yanking him towards the office. Val didn’t resist but he kept looking back. Backstrom closed the door and the blinds, Val drifted towards the couch, already trying to come up with answers. 

Backstrom watched him, then sat at his desk, his eyes never leaving Valentine. Val crossed his arms over his chest, kept his head down.

“What the hell was that?” Backstrom asked, sipping from his coffee mug and Val could guess there was whiskey in it. Val shrugged. “Damn it Valentine,” Backstrom said, slamming his hand on the table. “Do you know that guy?” Val shrugged again. “This is one of those things I need to know.” Val bit his cheek but didn’t answer. “Never mind,” Backstrom said slamming his coffee cup down, Val jumped and stood back as Backstrom brushed past him slamming the door. 

“What Noodlemayer?” Backstrom snapped as soon as the door was closed. 

“Why are you yelling at him?” Peter asked softly, but Val could still hear them, Val settled back on the couch pulling his knees up to his chest, he felt embarrassed, humiliated, the whole team had been looking at him. 

“Because once again, Valentine has had sex with one of our persons of interest,” Backstrom snapped.

“Had sex?” Peter asked, emphasizing the last word. “He seemed pretty intent on convincing us he didn’t force him, but he attacked him in a room full of cops. Why?” There was a long silence and he heard Backstrom retreat. Val let his head fall on his knees. The door opened a crack, and it wasn’t entirely unexpected that it was Peter. Peter’s head came around the corner first, and then he drifted into the room, all grace. Val looked up at him, watching him.

“Can I sit?” Peter asked, gesturing next to Valentine, and Val nodded, wary. Peter pressed his hands together. “Is that the guy you had a misunderstanding with?” Peter asked, wincing a little, his hand drifting to Val’s neck, flitting just past the scarf Valentine was wearing. Val just watched him. “That was a pretty impressive kick and roll off the desk, clever,” Peter complimented. Val smiled, and Val wasn’t sure when, or how, but Peter had slipped his hand into Val’s, heat spreading through it. There was that sensation again, of comfort, of things not feeling so bad. 

“If I didn’t want a fling,” Val said, leaning towards Peter, and Peter wrapped his arms around him, Val leaned in, soaking up the warmth, Peter’s hand was on his cheek, and Val closed his eyes. Seeing that guy again, having him grab him, and then allude to the whole team that, Val shook his head and a small tremor went through him. Peter slid closer, holding him tighter. Footsteps approached and Val pulled back, Peter let him go, stranding, his hands in his pocket, drifting to sit on Backstrom’s desk. 

Backstrom slammed through the door, looked at Peter then at Valentine. Backstrom perched on the desk closest to Valentine. “He says he had sex with you, that you tried to steal his wallet and when he threatened to call the police you said your brother was a cop and you’d get even with him.” Backstrom crossed his arms, watching for a reaction. Backstrom was great at reading other people but he had blinders on when it came to Val. Val knew Backstrom didn’t believe most of that, he was fishing. Val let the silence continue. “He also said,” Backstrom said and he leaned forward snatching Val’s scarf, “that you asked him to choke you,” and Backstrom was looking at the bruises even as Val yanked his scarf back readjusting it and moving away, drifting to the corner, wanting to be out of arm’s reach. 

“Damn it Valentine,” Backstrom complained.

“Are you mad at Valentine for being sexually assaulted, or for not telling you,” Peter whispered softly. Backstrom whirled to face him.

“He lies, and we waste our time in investigations.” Backstrom said, “if he raped you,” and Val flinched. 

“I am a former prostitute, former drug dealer, former addict, boutique collector thief, fence,” Val said, “what would you do with any statement I gave? Would you burn it in front of me or wait for me to leave?” Val asked, his hands holding his biceps, crossed tightly over his chest. Backstrom looked taken aback. “Forget it, I can’t help you,” Val said, shaking his head. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “What was his name?” Val asked not turning to look back. 

“Joe Michaels,” Backstrom said. Val nodded, and then Val ducked out, without so much as a goodbye. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He felt Gravely, Paquet, Almond and Moto turn to look at him, but he pretended not to notice and veered towards the stairs instead of the elevator. He took them two at a time, and forced himself not to run when he got outside. 

***  
“Are you yelling at him for getting sexually assaulted or for not telling you?” Peter asked again, tilting his head quizzically at his Lieutenant. 

“What are you babbling about?” Backstrom groused, adding more whiskey to his coffee.

“You think that guy raped Valentine, that guy basically admitted as much,” Peter said. 

“Yeah,” Backstrom said, “or Valentine did try to steal his wallet and threatened him.” Backstrom shrugged. 

“You saw the bruises on his throat,” Peter said.

“I also live with Valentine and his round the clock booty calls. Want to know how many times I hear the phrase ‘harder’ shouted from the other room?” Backstrom asked. 

“I think I saw Valentine after this happened, I don’t think it was rough sex,” Peter said.

“I don’t know what it was because he won’t tell me,” Backstrom snapped. 

“I think you should try a different approach,” Peter said softly.

“I think you should get the hell out of my office,” Backstrom said, turning to the files on his desk. Peter nodded, and drifted to the SCU bullpen. Everyone looked at him. Peter shrugged, it was difficult to recap conversations with Backstrom.

“Did that guy, Joe, hurt Valentine?” Gravely whispered, putting a file for their current case on Peter’s desk. 

“Inconclusive,” Peter said, even though he didn’t feel like it was. If Backstrom wasn’t pursuing it and Valentine didn’t want to discuss it, Peter didn’t feel like he could share his opinion. 

“Is Backstrom pissed?” 

“Yes,” Peter confirmed, flipping through the folder. Moto, Almond and Paquet drifted closer, not at all trying to hide that they were eavesdropping.

“At Valentine, Joe, or the team?” Gravely asked. 

“Everything,” Peter shrugged. Gravely nodded and glanced at Backstrom’s office. “We have work to do,” Peter said, and he loved his team, but right now his head was full of unpleasant images and thoughts. The team drifted back to the board, and Peter went through the evidence that hadn’t made it to Paquet’s puzzle board. 

Several hours passed, and Backstrom finally came out of his office. His eyes were red and rummy, likely from his ‘coffee’. “What do you have?” he asked, studying the board.

“A lot of ideas and nothing concrete,” Gravely responded. 

“We working all night?” Moto asked. 

“No, go home,” Backstrom said. 

“Good night, Sir,” Peter said. Peter and the others started gathering their things to leave. Peter was tempted to call Valentine, he liked to think they were friends. A small part of him wished Valentine had texted or called. Peter felt like he couldn’t approach Val, Val had made his intentions clear and Peter didn’t want to come across as interested so long as Val’s terms were so clear. 

“Noodlemayer,” Backstrom said, waving him back as the others got on the elevator. 

“Yes?” Peter asked. 

“How did you know about Val’s bruises?” Backstrom asked. 

Peter hesitated for a moment, “you removed his scarf,” Peter said.

“You were behind me, you couldn’t see his neck,” Backstrom said, his eyes narrowing. Peter felt the full Backstrom interrogation coming on.

“I saw him after it happened I think, bruised face, bruised neck, blood on his sheets,” Peter said. “That guy did hurt him,” Peter confirmed. Backstrom narrowed his eyes and studied Peter. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Backstrom asked, tilting his head curiously. Peter felt like Backstrom was reading him on a whole different level.

“Valentine wouldn’t tell me anything and I didn’t want to violate his confidence in me. I’m not happy about it, but if you hadn’t failed to attend our training on sexual assault you would know that you can’t and shouldn’t force survivors to tell you what happened. They should be afforded the autonomy and space to decide who, what and when they tell.”

“So you don’t care at all if that guy gets away with it?” Backstrom asked.

“Oh,” Peter said, stepping forward his voice low, his eyes angry, “I care a lot. There just isn’t anything I can do about it right now.” Backstrom smiled and nodded.

“Wait,” Backstrom said turning back. “Where did you see Valentine afterwards?”

“At the barge,” Peter said.

“It happened on the barge?” Backstrom looked startled, “on my barge?” 

“Yes,” Peter said. 

“So the guy who assaulted Valentine on my barge, apparently knew I was a cop, attacked Valentine in full view of several officers, lied during his interrogation without remorse, -that guy- knows exactly where the person he thinks filed a report about him lives?” Backstrom clarified.

“Yes,” Peter said. 

“They let Joe Michaels go fifteen minutes ago, this information would have been helpful sooner,” Backstrom snapped. Then he sighed, shaking his head, “go to the barge, stay with Valentine. If Joe is there or if he shows up, shoot him, that’s an order,” Backstrom said. “Val will back up whatever you say happened that required the use of deadly force,” Backstrom finished softly. 

“Yes, sir,” Peter said.

“Moto,” Backstrom called, and the officer made his way over. 

“Gonna be a long night?” Moto asked.

“Not for you, go get me the Michaels file and then go home.” 

***  
Peter texted Valentine that he was coming over and got a response that Val would rather be alone. Peter didn’t answer and instead went to the barge, he had his orders. Peter did a quick survey of the parking area, and the outside of the barge before entering. Valentine was sitting in front of the television with a beer and slice of pizza. He barely spared a glance at Peter and went back to the television. 

Peter took off his jacket, loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves before taking Backstrom’s chair. He grabbed a slice of pizza and watched the television too. 

“Beer?” Val asked after a while.

“Can’t, I’m working,” Peter said, smiling and taking another bite of pizza.

“On what, it’s midnight,” Val said, checking his watch, Peter saw he was wearing six of them. 

“I’m providing security detail for a potential witness,” Peter said. Val shot him a look, and tossed his pizza half eaten into the box. “

“I can’t help you,” Val said again, downing the rest of his beer, tensing all over his body. 

“I’m not asking for help. I’m just here to make sure nothing happens, they let him go and he knows where you live. Until Backstrom finds a way to lock him up, you can expect extra company,” Peter reasoned, seeing no point in hiding the reality of the situation. 

“Backstrom does live here, he can provide security,” Val said.

“Backstrom solves murders, he doesn’t chase or apprehend criminals,” Peter pointed out, “besides, Joe Michaels is a big guy.” Val’s eyes closed, at that comment, wincing slightly.

“Do you think you could take him?” Val asked, and there seemed to be something under that question.

“I think I have a gun,” Peter answered. Val flicked a gaze at him, his head slightly tilted down, and Peter was pretty sure he was reading shame in his posture. “Without a gun, I think it would be very challenging to manage him. He has a background in mixed martial arts and outweighs me by about a hundred pounds. I think if he tried to hurt me, it would be very difficult to fight him,” Peter whispered, Val stood, crossing his arms, his head down.

“I’m going to bed,” Val said.

“Is that information or an invitation?” Peter asked, and Val’s eyes flew up then. Peter was startled by his own question, he hadn’t meant to say that.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Val said, recovering quickly and spinning on his heel. He closed his door most of the way, just open by a crack. Peter leaned his head back, there was no question about what he wanted it to be, but what would he let it be? Peter texted Moto, and asked about an ETA. Moto responded that Backstrom was sleeping at the station and Moto was home already. Peter wandered up and locked the front door, and then made his way to the bottom of the stairs. Oh to go right or straight? Going straight never had such depth before. Peter swallowed hard, and then pushed open Valentine’s door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are good, comments are better...
> 
> What do you want it to be?


	3. Rain Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you guess right? Invitation or Information?
> 
> Peter is drawn to Valentine, and committed to his own resolve. You shouldn't get so close to temptation when you're trying to resist...

A single tear is droppin', Through the valleys of an aging face, That this world has forgotten  
***

Val sat up as Peter opened the door, silhouetted against the light. Valentine couldn’t see his face, but he came towards the bed and Val was on his knees in a second, reaching for him, his mouth searching in the dark, his hand on either side of Peter’s face pulling him in. Peter let Val plunder his mouth, his hand on the back of Valentine’s head, one arm on the small of his back, urging him forward. Val greedily explored the wet heat, Peter tasted as good as he smelled. Val’s hands went for Peter’s shirt, trying to get under. 

“Wait, wait,” Peter said with a soft groan, his hands capturing Valentine’s, pulling them to his mouth and Peter kissed them. “Just wait a minute,” Peter said softly, and Val could tell by the tone Peter was having a hard time pulling back. “I just came to check on you,” Peter said, and they both knew it was a lie, as Peter’s forehead stayed pressed against Valentine’s, his breath quickened with desire, Peter winced with the effort to restrain himself. 

“There’s so much more to explore?” Val whispered, leaning in, his mouth close to Peter’s ear, “are you sure that’s enough,” he invited. Peter laughed softly, and sucked in a breath, as Val nipped at his ear. 

“It’ll never be enough,” Peter said wistfully. He pushed Val back onto the bed, and Val drifted back eagerly. Peter crawled onto top of him, his arms on either side, holding himself up, and he allowed himself to look down. Valentine was all heat and sexual allure, inviting, but Peter rolled to the side, dropping down next to him. Val tried to roll over and face him, but Peter’s hand on his hip stopped him, and Peter gently pushed him onto his side.

“What do you have in mind?” Valentine asked, soft, sexual, and ready for anything. Val heard Peter open the nightstand drawer, and then heard the soft clunk of metal hitting wood, Peter must have dropped his gun in. Then his hand was back on Val’s hip, and excitement shot through Valentine. 

“Can I just hold you for a while?” Peter asked, his breath across the back of Val’s neck. 

“You can do whatever you want,” Valentine invited, pressing back against him, “oh,” Val said his voice soaked in sex, “I thought you put your gun away,” he said rubbing his backside against Peter’s erection.

“Val,” Peter said, his hand stopping the invitational gyrations.

“Yeah?” 

“Can I just hold you?” Peter asked again. Val grimaced, feeling uncertain, and swallowed hard. 

“Yeah,” Val said, turning, his eyes meeting Peter’s. Peter moved onto his back, and pulled Val onto his chest. Val put one leg on top of Peter’s, throwing one hand over his chest, resting his head on Peter’s heart. Val lay there for a moment, he bit his lip feeling confused. Peter’s arms came around him, one hand stroking his back, the other brushing his hair, then face, than arm. Nonsexual touches that felt, -comforting- was that the word? Val wasn’t sure. Val kept waiting for Peter to turn it into something more, for his hands to accidentally slide into his waistband. 

“You know,” Val started his voice dripping with lust, his hand stroking Peter’s chest. Peter intercepted Val’s wandering hands, put them to his lips and kissed palm to wrist before putting Val’s hand back over him.

“I know, Valentine, I know,” Peter said, the hint of longing in his voice. Val kept thinking up ways Peter could take advantage, but he didn’t. His hands were soft, soothing, gentle, and Val felt his eyes starting to flutter shut. He felt warm, and good and safe, and without meaning to, he drifted off to sleep. 

***  
Val couldn’t tell if he was dreaming, he was lying down in a bed, and he looked down, ropes were on him, it was hard to move, he tried to turn but something heavy was pressing him down. Val started to struggle, he didn’t like restraints, ropes, handcuffs, none of it, the ropes turned to slithering snakes and Val jerked back. Then his vision shifted and someone was there, leaning over him, hands pawing at him, Val turned his face away, straining against the bonds that held him. 

Val startled awake, his breath coming fast and shallow. He was laying on his side and someone was behind him, heavy arms over him. Val tried to remember where he was, who he had brought home. The hands got lighter.

“Valentine,” came a groggy voice, “are you okay?” Peter asked. Val stilled, and tried to pretend he was asleep, relief washing over him, he closed his eyes, curled tightly on his side, his hands crossed over his chest. It was just a dream. Peter kissed the back of his neck but it was chaste, brief, meant to be... nice, maybe? A hand stroked his shoulder down to his elbow and then back up again. Val trembled slightly, not scared, but frightened by the lack of threat, Val didn’t even know what that thought meant and he shook his head. He felt Peter prop himself up on his elbow, and he gently pulled Val’s shoulder until Val turned onto his back, his hands falling to his side. “I know you’re awake, but you don’t have to talk to me,” Peter said, his knuckles brushing Val’s face. Val smiled, and held his hand. 

“Change your mind?” Val asked, kissing Peter’s hand this time. 

“Will you tell me what happened?” Peter asked, his hand on Val’s cheek, his thumb brushing his jaw. 

“Hmm, with what?” Val asked. 

“With this?” Peter asked, and there was pain in his voice as his hand drifted to Val’s neck, gentle fingers tracing the column of Val’s neck. 

“It’s not important,” Valentine whispered.

“It is to me,” Peter returned.

“I can’t give you a statement,” Valentine reminded him.

“I’m not asking for a statement, I’m asking what happened.” Peter returned, and he pressed his face against Valentine’s cheek. Val sighed and stared at the ceiling. He closed his eyes.

“It’s stupid, I did some molly at the club, I brought him home, he got rougher than I like, and I told him to leave and he didn’t,” Val summarized swallowing hard, unconsciously rubbing his wrist. Peter’s grip tightened. “He didn’t,” Val shook his head, not wanting to say the words. “I invited him back here, I intended to have some version of rough sex with him, it just got out of hand, it’s not, he didn’t, it wasn’t ‘that’,” Val said, his eyes drifting open to meet Peter’s.

“You told him no.” Peter said confidently, and it wasn’t a question.

“I don’t remember exactly, I told him to stop, I think, but we were pretty intense until that point. I was all over him until, I just didn’t like his particular brand of sex,” Val trailed off, finding it hard to explain. 

“Val,” Peter said, cupping his cheek, turning him so he could make eye contact. “It doesn’t take a grenade to say no, you should have only had to ask him to stop. That should have been the end, he absolutely raped,” Peter stopped when Val’s breath caught and he shook his head, his eyes closing tightly, “he without question, did ‘that’” Peter finished, adapting to Val’s terminology. 

Val turned away on his side, and Peter moved with him, wrapping his arms around him, not restraining, -gentle, and comforting-. “I,” Val laughed a little, but it turned into a sob as he pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes. 

“What?” Peter asked. 

“When he was holding me down, and I was struggling to get free, he said he liked the way I moved, told me to keep doing it because it felt good,” a small humorless laugh escaped, “to fight back I had to stop fighting,” Val finished, he’d unconsciously curled into a tight ball on his side, he could feel the guy’s hands pressing against his skin, the bites, Val’s fingers dug into his own arms. Peter held him and, Val felt warm and safe against him. 

“I’m sorry that happened, he was an asshole and it wasn’t okay,” Peter reiterated, Peter’s mouth gently kissed in a soothing and sexless way, his hands patting and stroking. “and any story about sex that starts with ‘he held me down’ is a good indication of sex lacking consent,” Peter clarified. Val wiped at his eyes and sighed deeply. 

“Should I go?” Peter asked.

“No,” Val said and his hand flew to Peter’s holding it in place. “Just,” Val said, closing his eyes tightly, “don’t tell anyone about this,” Val asked. 

“It’s your story to tell, I would never,” Peter assured him.

“No, not that, well don’t tell anyone about that either, but about this,” Val said squeezing his hand. 

“Holding you?” Peter asked, confusion coloring his words.

“Yes, if anyone suspects you spent the night in here, you tell them we had amazing sex,” Val said, tears catching in his throat. He felt Peter laugh, but there was no sound. “Lots of times,” Val finished, wiping at the last of the moisture on his face, as Peter kissed and nuzzled his neck.

“Of course,” Peter said, “I am a gentleman after all, and I would never compromise your reputation.”

Val laughed a little at that, as Peter’s arms enveloped him. Val pressed back against him, closing his eyes and reveling in the feel, his hands holding Peter’s arms to him. Val didn’t try to turn it sexual this time, he just enjoyed the feeling. He’d cuddled after sex before, but he couldn’t think of a time anyone had held him without getting something else out of it… a time when he let anyone see him vulnerable and in need of comfort. 

***  
Peter sat with the team and Valentine was banished to Backstrom’s office. Val had begrudgingly went, there was loud yelling between Backstrom and Valentine, and when the door opened Backstrom emerged and Val was laying on Backstrom’s couch. Val kicked the door closed, and didn’t look amused.

“Is he okay?” Gravely asked.

“He’s in timeout for pissing me off, now,” Backstrom barked, “this is Joe Michaels, I would like to arrest him,” Backstrom said dropping the file and a picture of Joe on the desk.

“For what?” Gravely asked.

“For anything, rape, assault, tax evasion, opening someone else’s mail - that’s a federal offense right?” Backstrom answered, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow. 

“Has he done all of those things?” Almond asked.

“Probably, and I don’t care what he’s done, I care what we can convict him on. Go, find me some evidence,” Backstrom said.

“What about our other case?” Gravely said, crossing her arms.

“Gravely,” Backstrom said in the condescending tone he only used when he was lying and trying to evade his responsibilities, “a good detective knows that sometimes you have to take a break and come back to a case in order to solve it. Think of this as extra credit to help us catch a break in our other case,” Backstrom explained.


	4. Still Something Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Backstrom still wants to put Valentine's rapist away for something, anything will do. 
> 
> Peter is still on guard duty, keeping Valentine safe. But is Peter in a different kind of danger, maybe too close to the edge of his affection...

"I don't hate you, boy, I just want to save you, While there's still something left to save"

*****

“How many times do I have to prosecute this guy?” Deputy Kines asked three weeks later. 

“Until you do it correctly,” Backstrom said tilting his head. 

“This is the third case involving Joe Michaels to hit my desk in the last month,” Kines said crossing his arms. 

“He’s a real bad guy,” Backstrom said eyes wide with sarcasm. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Kines asked.

“No, the Lieutenant does not,” Gravely cut Backstrom off, as he started to say ‘absol’. “I kind of do though,” Gravely finished. Kines threw her a look.

“I heard about the fight between your brother and that guy, I don’t live under a rock, and the DA’s office isn’t your personal vendetta enforcer,” Kines said sharply.

“Is there something wrong with the evidence we have submitted?” Backstrom asked innocently.

“No,” Kines admitted.

“So you don’t think the police department should try to apprehend criminals?” Backstrom continued in his innocent and shocked voice. Gravely put her fingers to her lips to hide her smile. “Could you make me a list of crimes the DA’s office does not want us to pursue?”

“Everyone knows what you’re doing, including Michaels’ attorney,” Kines said crossing his arms. 

“I wouldn't have to keep coming up with cases, if you would do your job,” Backstrom said, clasping his hands in front of him, shooting the assistant district attorney an appraising look. Kines put his hand on his hip and looked down. 

“I’d like to help you, even if only to keep you from wasting my time, but your cases suck and his lawyer is great. Even the judge has remarked on the number of times he’s been arrested in unrelated crimes. You’re building a civil harassment case for him,” Kines explained.

“How can it be harassment if he committed all those crimes? Why am I the bad guy?” Backstrom intoned. 

“This is the last case I’m taking in front of the judge unless it’s big and you have good evidence, no more petty crime bullshit and minor offenses,” Kines said, then he spun on his heel making his way to the elevator. 

“Well, that was fun, you love it when I torment your boyfriend,” Backstrom smiled.

“He is not my boyfriend,” Gravely said quickly. 

“Please, I should arrest you for lewd behavior, you practically undressed him with your eyes, in public,” Backstrom said gruffly, shooting her an amused look.

“I just threw up in my mouth,” Gravely said, grabbing the latest file on Michaels and leaving. 

Michaels was leaving the interrogation room, just as Moto and Valentine were coming back with dinner. 

“This isn’t over, you better call off your brother,” Michaels snapped, but he didn’t lunge for Valentine this time. 

“Just calm down,” Moto said, and there was a hint in his voice that suggested he wanted Michaels to do the opposite. 

“I didn’t force you,” Michaels snapped.

Val crossed his arms, “I never said you did, I wasn’t the witness.”

“Tell them what really happened,” Michaels snarled.

“I invited him back to my place, but he got too excited and came too early, I saw his dick, I’m not sure I would notice if he had it in me anyway, tiny,” Val said through clenched teeth, his thumb and forefinger measuring an unflattering inch. Michaels eyes bulged, his face flushed red, and his hands clenched at his sides into fists. Val’s eyes narrowed, he was tired of this asshole controlling his life, especially since he hadn’t started this. 

“Okay, come with me,” Gravely said, grabbing Val’s arm and moving him away as Michaels and Val shared hateful looks. Michaels’ attorney grabbed his arm, and started moving him towards the elevator. 

“Why would you do that?” Gravely snapped.

“I’m sick of him. I’m sick of being here,” Valentine said. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Peter’s hands came down on his shoulders, massaging gently. “Let’s go for a walk,” Peter suggested.

“Yes, take him home, and sit on him. We’re working all night,” Backstrom said gesturing to the rest of the team, “we need a really good case, Gravely’s boyfriend won’t prosecute anymore after this one, so we need our best evidence,” Backstrom ordered.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Gravely snapped.

Peter tucked Val into the passenger side of his SUV. Val looked sullen and pissed. Peter let his knuckles brush the side of Val’s face. “I’m sorry,” Peter said. Val shrugged, and put his hands in his face. Peter went around to the driver’s side. Val closed his eyes.

“I just want it to be over,” Val sighed. Peter hugged him, cognizant that they were in the police garage. Peter let his hands drift to Val’s back, even as Val’s hands were clasped in front of him. Val let his face rest on Peter’s shoulder for a moment, he closed his eyes and breathed in his scent. “You know,” Val said, used to the comfort now, tilting his head his eyes drifting up to meet Peter’s, “this constant surveillance is really cutting into my sex life,” Val said, his lips brushing Peter’s chin. Peter laughed, pulling away and starting up the SUV. Val watching him from his side of the car, and as soon as Peter made it onto the streets, his hand drifted over, holding Valentine’s. “I know what we could have for dessert,” Val suggested. 

“You don’t have to seduce me, Valentine, I’m seducing you,” Peter teased, flicking his gaze at Valentine before the light turned green again.

“You’re doing it wrong, I’m a sure thing,” Val laughed. 

“Not the seduction I’m after,” Peter winked at him, “yet,” he amended when Val narrowed his eyes. “I want dinner,” Peter said.

“We can grab a pizza, my treat if that’s all it takes, bring it back to the barge,” Val said, his hands drifting over to the driver’s side, his fingers inching towards Peter’s lap, but Peter caught his hand, bringing it to his lips kissing his wrist, and palm. 

“Dinner, in public, and the date ends when I drop you off at your doorstep with a chaste kiss goodnight,” Peter said. Val laughed.

“That doesn’t sound worthwhile at all, I have a lot more to offer than a chaste kiss,” Valentine promised. Peter put the car in park as they found a spot.

He turned, his face serious, his hand going to Valentine’s cheek. “I know you do, a lot more than kisses and sex,” Peter said, smiling. Peter unbuckled and Val followed suit, feeling confused by Peter’s comment. Normally things were the other way around, guys desperately trying to get into his pants and avoid all the other stuff. He’d offered Peter his choice in sexual delights, and he was clearly interested and eager, but he kept saying no. They walked in silence to the barge. Peter shooting him looks the whole way. 

They made their way into the kitchen, Val retrieved two beers, twisting the caps off, as Peter leaned against the counter, his hands on either side of him. Val set Peter’s beer down next to him, and Val moved in close, nudging Peter’s legs apart with his knees so he could move in closer, press himself between Peter’s legs. Val took a sip of his own beer, his eyes locked on Peter’s as he swallowed slowly, one hand on Peter’s hip, his fingers gently massaging. Val pulled the beer bottle away from his lips and Peter’s mouth was there, his hands on either side of Val’s face, kissing him, his tongue exploring. 

Val moaned his approval, as Peter’s hands slid down to Val’s lower back, urging him forward, pressed against Peter’s swiftly hardening erection, Val put his beer behind Peter, his hands going around his neck, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Peter was walking him backwards, until Val hit the table. Peter swept the contents, lifting as Val used his own hands to hop onto the surface. Val put one hand around Peter, the other drifting into the bag he always carried, lube appeared, and Peter smiled against his mouth. 

“Turn around,” Peter whispered, and Val spun fast, bending over the table, but Peter pulled him back up, pressing Val’s back to his chest, his hands stroking his stomach, one hand on the column of his neck, his mouth licking and tasting. Peter popped one of Val’s buttons, and Val let his eyes close, Peter’s hands felt so good, and honestly after three weeks of entertaining himself, it felt good, Peter covered one of his hands in lube, and Val tried to push his own pants down and lean forward again, but Peter held him back, his hand drifting down the front of Val’s pants, finding his erection and stroking. Peter kissed, bit and nibbled at Val’s neck, stroking his cock, long and steady, twisting at the top, Val’s breath caught, he tried to reach back for Peter, but Peter moved his hands forward, one dipping to tweak a nipple and Val gasped. The orgasm came fast and intense, Val shuddering with ecstasy, his knees weak and Peter held him upright, panting just as hard. 

Val took several sucking breaths, panting, as he slouched against Peter. “That was great,” Val said, turning in Peter’s arms, his mouth finding Peter’s, his tongue, lazily licking in, tasting, his hands, around Peter’s neck. He started to drop to his knees, and Peter held him up, stroking his face and chest.

“You’re beautiful,” Peter whispered against his mouth. 

“Let me,” Val said, his hands drifting to Peter’s pants, but Peter evaded him again. 

“You don’t want?” Val asked.

Peter laughed against his mouth, sucking Val’s tongue into his mouth. “Very much,” Peter confessed, “but I want more than you’re offering.”

“But you just,” Val said, pulling back, looking at him, his brows together in confusion.

“We’ve cramped your style,” Peter said, his mouth finding Val’s again, his hand pulling his head close. 

“So you owe me?” Val asked, feeling out of sorts, used? Was he feeling fucking used? Jesus. Normally, what a gift to get an orgasm without requiring anything in return.

“No, maybe. It seemed like that or let you go to the club and fuck somebody else,” Peter confessed, “and I have no right, but I didn’t like that idea.” 

“I can also take care of myself,” Val said his eyes watching Peter intently.

“Then, maybe, I just don’t have as much resolve as I thought,” Peter admitted. “You feel good.” Val felt himself blushing, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had the wherewithal to blush. 

“What about you?” Val asked, pressing his hips against Peter’s obvious erection.

“I’ll live, it’ll be easier to survive if you go shower, and let me clean this up,” Peter said, his mouth delving in for one more kiss, and then he guided Val away, putting him at arm’s length.

“Really?” Val asked, his eyes half lidded, “it’s easier, if I take off all my clothes,” and he lifted his shirt, and shimmied out of his pants and boxers, “and go into the shower, naked, and lather myself up?” Peter’s breathing was shallow and fast, as he watched. 

“It made more sense when you didn’t explain it,” Peter said breathily.

“If you change your mind,” Val said, turning and walking towards the bathroom nude and with every ounce of sex appeal he could muster. Peter watched, mouth open, but he didn’t follow and Val felt a little sad at his restraint. Val lathered himself up, feeling aroused again just thinking about Peter. Val hadn’t been this infatuated with anyone for this long in … ever. Val was starting to take it personally that Peter wouldn’t have sex with him, but it felt dangerous too. Peter wanted something Val didn't even believe he was capable of - a relationship - ha. Peter didn’t know what he was asking for, relationships were jokes. An image flashed in Val’s mind, a man who had once looked at him with such love. It felt like a sucker punch, and pain spread through Val’s chest. Peter didn’t look at him like that, and yet there was an intensity to the way Peter did watch him, hold him, and console him. 

Val closed his eyes, washing himself, trying not to think about anything. He turned the water cool, to tamp down any remaining lust that was likely to go unfulfilled. He dried himself off, and cinched the towel at his waist. He ran his hand through his hair, he really was attractive. He touched his neck where small purplish marks from Peter were. Val smiled. He did like Peter, more than he should. Val smiled, maybe he could go to one dinner. 

Val made his way out of the bathroom. Peter had restored the kitchen and the table, in fact, he’d made it neater than before. If he was hoping to erase any evidence of their tryst, a clean kitchen was sure to arouse Backstrom’s suspicion. Peter stood as Val came out. Peter looked more at ease, composed. Val held out his hand and Peter took it following him to the bedroom, once inside the dark room Val dropped his towel and climbed on the bed, Peter right behind him. The arms that held him, offered comfort and soothing. Val felt confused and the sensation he began to recognize as self-worth. He’d always thought well of himself, he just hadn’t had anyone else who saw value in him. It shifted his world view. Peter put his gun in the nightstand drawer, and his arms came around Valentine, holding him, -cherishing him-. Val felt wetness at his eyes and that was more confusing. He let his eyes shut and for just a moment imagined a relationship with dinners an chaste kisses as he drifted off to sleep.


	5. Retribution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine and Michaels meet up and a show down ensures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic

There is no reconciliation, That will put me in my place

****  
Deputy Kines made his way into the bullpen, and Backstrom smiled.

“You’re welcome,” Backstrom said.

“For what, looking like an idiot, again?” Kines asked, dropping his briefcase.

“What do you mean?” Backstrom asked.

“The judge didn’t even listen he dismissed the case,” Kines said, dropping his briefcase on the table. “That’s it, if Michaels doesn’t murder someone in broad daylight, don’t drop a file on my desk.”

“What are you talking about?” Backstrom asked, “We had him.”

“Yeah, but your other three at bats colored the judge’s opinion. She dismissed it before I even had a chance,” Kines said.

“Why the hell didn’t you call?” Backstrom demanded, “Did they let him go?” the team tensed around him. Peter, Nadia, Frank, John, Nicole all shared concerned looks.

“I was in front of a judge all day, I don’t get to text or call after each case,’ Kines snapped, “it was humiliating.”

“Where’s Valentine?” Backstrom asked.

“We aren’t tracking him because Michaels was supposed to be in custody,” Gravely snapped glaring at Kines.

Backstrom was calling Valentine’s cell phone. “Find him,” he said to the team at large. They all started texting and calling, Nadia was on her computer.

***

“Two minutes,” Valentine said catching his breath. Val had hit the gym hard today, lifting weights, cardio, a few rounds on the punch bag. He’d been cooped up for days, and it was starting to show. He had a figure to maintain after all.

“You don’t even have a membership at this gym,” Bryan groaned, giving Val an exasperated look. Val sidled up behind Bryan as he was working on the sink in the locker room. Val leaned in, his mouth close to his ear.

“I know, and I’m very grateful for your generosity,” Val said, kissing his shoulder. “Let me get a shower, and I’ll show you in other ways how grateful I am,” Val teased.

"No thanks, Zach believes in emotional and physical fidelity," Bryan said, but threw the wrench back in the toolbox “Go, I have to wipe down the machines, but I’m coming back in 30 minutes to fix this sink and the water is going off whether you’re done or not,” Bryan threatened playfully.

“You're the best, Zach is so lucky” Val said, bowing and heading for the showers.

“29 minutes,” Bryan threatened walking backwards checking his watch.

Val drifted off to the showers, he felt good, he was sweating and his skin felt flushed. He’d worked out a lot of pent up anger. He’d felt like a prisoner since that night. Although, some moments of captivity had been better than others Val mused, as he considered the heavy petting, make out sessions, and sleepovers with Peter. Typically, Moto and he would have been teamed up to play poker, but Backstrom kept Moto with him. Given Michaels history, Backstrom was intent on having Moto, a former mixed martial arts fighter, arrest Michaels. Val was not complaining about the switch, poker with Moto was not nearly as fun as sleepovers with Peter, even if it didn't get further than cuddling and heavy petting.

Val was a free spirit though, and he didn't like curfews, surveillance and restrictions on his movements, even if it was for his own good. Val hadn't had a home for the first 19 years of his life, and he liked the barge as his home base, but he needed to be able to come and go as he pleased. Michaels was in jail so Valentine was off his leash. Val jumped as the shower kicked on spraying him in the face, a nice contrast to the heat of his sweat. Val ran his fingers through his hair, grabbing the shampoo and scrubbing. Valentine preferred showers at the gym, the hot water tank on the barge and water pressure left a lot to be desired. Val also didn’t mind showering with twenty other guys. Val scrubbed his face, and then leaned against the wall, letting the water wash over him. Bryan said he could have thirty minutes, and Portland had turned chilly, it was nice to soak under the water for a few minutes without Backstrom yelling to save water, or the tank giving out on its own and dousing Valentine in cold water. 

There was a noise, and Val opened his eyes. “Bryan, one more minute,” he yelled over the sounds of the shower. When there was no response, Val turned off the water, “Bryan,” he called again. Val grabbed his towel and toiletries, assuming Bryan had ducked in to see if Val was finished. Val went to his locker, the towel cinched around his waist. He grabbed another towel and started toweling his hair.

“Tell me how small it is now,” he heard the harsh voice. Val tried to turn, but hands came around him, dragging him backwards over the benches. Val let out a yelp, and Joe Michaels was there. Michaels shoved him, and followed it up with a downward punch, sending Valentine back over the bench, hitting his shoulder on a locker before landing hard on the cement flooring. Val scrambled to his feet, retreated backwards, scanning for a weapon.

Michaels stalked after him, “go ahead, say it to my face without your crew to back you up, I want to hear it again,” Michaels invited, anger and rage coloring his face. Val almost regretted saying it, but it was his nature to fight back. He doubted Michaels was ever going to let what happened go, even if Val had kept his mouth shut. At least he’d fought back in some way that had wounded Michaels, and Val kept looking for another way to hurt the larger man, preferably physically this time. Val got to the end of the rows of lockers and Michaels lunged for him, catching his wrist as Val tried to bolt up the other side and try to get out of the locker rooms. Val knew the gym was empty, but Val was pretty confident if it came to running he could outrun Michaels-even in a towel. Val tried to jerk his hand free, but Michaels pulled him, slamming Val up against the lockers. That hurt, Val vaguely processed as he tried to struggle free. He was slick from his shower, so that helped a little as Michaels tried to find purchase, frustrated Michaels gave up and grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled, using his foot to trip Valentine sending him to his knees in the shower area.

Valentine put out his hands, his knees and palms scrapping against the tile. Val ignored the stinging and tried to get back up, but Michaels was there on top of him, grabbing him. “Think you’ll know I’m there this time?” he spat, a fist going into Valentine’s side, even as a forearm came around Valentine’s throat, cutting off his air. Val tried to remove Michaels’ arm, and when that didn’t work, Val hit Michaels' arms, trying to get him to let's go. Val felt blackness coming over him, as Michaels squeezed harder. Michaels let go suddenly and Val sucked in a breath, but Michaels grabbed the back of his neck and slammed him face first into the tiles. Val felt his skin split, blood leaked down his face, time slowed for a moment, the hit stunning him as his eyes fluttered, he watched as the blood dripped to the tile, turning it red and pink as it mixed with the water on the floor, making a trail towards the drain. It reminded him of a watercolor painting he'd seen once. Val blinked his eyes, trying to clear his head. 

Val grunted as Michaels pressed into him, but he bit down. He almost reacted like a normal person should, crying out, yelling, but Valentine wasn't always wise enough to be afraid when he should be. Life had taught him that nothing was fair, and even if you played along you often still got hurt. Although, Valentine was afraid, but some part of his brain urged him to fight when he should run, bristle when he should cower. Val clenched his teeth. Michaels grabbed a fistful of hair, wrenching Val's head to the side so he could see his face. He pressed down, Val’s other cheek against the tile floor, making it scrap as Michaels thrust. Michaels was as deep as he could get, and it fucking hurt. "Can you feel me now?" He demanded angrily.

“No,” Val spat, “tell me when it starts,” the comment was as stupid as Val thought it would be. Michaels let go of his hair and slapped him, and then held the back of Valentine’s neck, keeping his face pressed into the floor as he assaulted him. Val ignored the pain, oddly numb. He had to think about after, because he was pretty sure Michaels was going to try to kill him. There was no way to stop what was happening and Val’s only resistance was indifference and mocking, if he was going to die, he was going to do it with his version of dignity. Although, he wasn't giving up, living was still option A. Val tried to focus on what was in the room that could help him, and tuned out the sexual assault, the tiles digging into his skin, Michaels’ painful grip on his hip.   
"Feel me now?" He was roaring, and Val couldn't make out all the things he was yelling, and they weren't important, Val was going to survive. “You think you’re funny now?” Michaels demanded as he finished. Val lay perfectly still, pretending to be unconscious, until he heard Michaels redoing his own pants. Val shot up and ran for the sinks, his leg tried to give out, not onboard with the sudden physical demands, but Val used his hands on the lockers for balance, and he skidded around the corner. He heard Michaels right behind him. Val grabbed for the toolbox sending the contents sprawling. He’d grabbed a screwdriver and as Michaels caught him, Val stabbed down with the screwdriver. Michaels’ momentum was already lifting Val and slamming Valentine into the mirrors above the sink behind them. The glass shattered sending shards raining down, and Val pulled the screwdriver out, ready to stab him again. Michaels grabbed Val’s wrist and flung Valentine back into the shower area, shards of glass digging into Val’s feet as he went, his hand flailed, catching a faucet causing water to spray on him as he landed back on the tile floor. Val tried to stand, but that caused glass shards to dig deeper into his feet, and he scrambled backwards instead, his back hitting the shower wall. He kept the screwdriver in his hand as he watched Michaels warily, Val's chest was heaving with fear, and exertion as he tried to catch his breath.

Michaels was holding the spot at his shoulder and blood was flowing, he looked white faced and stunned, dropping to his knees. Then he locked eyes with Valentine again, “You fucker,” he hissed, and his rage kept him moving, he started to crawl towards Valentine. Val tried to stand again, but between the slick floor, glass cutting into his feet, and the pain in his hip where he landed his body refused to support such a request. The adrenaline had helped keep him going and had mitigated the pain, but it was wearing off fast. Val looked back at Michaels who dropped face down several feet from him. Val tried to marshal his senses and body to retreat, but he had difficulty getting any of his limbs to cooperate. Val pulled his legs closer to him, but he couldn’t get his feet under him. He thought about removing the glass, but there was so much, jagged red rivers covered the bottom of both feet. He had to get out. Val grabbed the towel which had become tangled around him, and pulled it to him, pressing it to his head momentarily. The bright white faded under the red blood. Lots of blood. Val felt dizzy, and he closed his eyes for a moment, or so he thought, when he opened them again, Michaels was slowly crawling towards him.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Michaels muttered, but he looked pretty badly injured himself.

“Don’t,” Val warned intending to shout, but it came out more a whisper, Val’s hand landed on the screwdriver at his side, not remembering dropping it. Val’s head felt cottony, the water was loud in his ears, and there were other noises, loud banging, the ground seemed like it was vibrating.

Val looked again, and covered his ears, dropping the screwdriver as two gunshots rang out. Val tilted his head up, and Michaels was face down, more blood pooling around him. Val blinked.

Hands were on him suddenly, nope couldn’t be, Michaels was still too far away, his arms couldn’t reach where Val was. As Val’s brain struggled to keep up, Peter’s face appeared in his line of sight, his hands were at Val’s neck, checking his pulse, tilting his head. Val watched and Peter’s mouth was moving, was he talking?

“Valentine, are you okay?” Peter was asking, shaking him a little. Val tried to focus, Peter was blurry but he could hear him, so he nodded.

“Jesus Christ,” Val heard Backstrom say from somewhere. A blob shape that resembled Moto walked to Michaels, knelt by him, and then picked up another screwdriver from the box. Val saw Backstrom walk towards Moto. Moto slugged Backstrom in the chest, and then Moto stabbed the screwdriver into Backstrom’s arm, and then dropped it by Michaels, wrapping a towel around the injury. What the fuck? Val thought. 

“Val, are you okay, what hurts?” Peter was saying, and Val’s eyes went to Peter’s. Val realized it was his own body vibrating and not the floor. Val hadn’t realized he was crying, and he launched himself into Peter’s arms, tucking his head to his chest, his hands clutching the front of Peter’s shirt, Peter’s arms were strong around him, comforting, safe.

“Put pressure on that,” Peter was saying as a cloth was pressed to his head, it hurt, but Val only shivered in response. “It’s going to be okay, we have you,” Peter was murmuring, as he pulled a towel around Valentine. Peter then moved his arms behind Val's back and head, stroking lightly to hug him gingerly. More people came in, cops, paramedics, someone flashed a light in Val's eye and Peter snatched up the pen light. “Do you mind?” he snapped. “Val?” he asked, stroking Val’s uninjured temple. Val’s eyes shifted to Peter’s. “They need to check you okay, can you tell them what hurts?” Peter asked, his hands still on Val’s face and Val focused on Peter’s eyes.

“Everything,” Val whispered and he leaned in again, Peter holding him, stroking his hair. Val didn’t want to let go, he’d bleed to death if he never had to leave this spot. Paramedics started checking him, as best they could when he wouldn’t leave Peter’s arms. Val flinched as they touched his feet, he turned his face into Peter, intent on reducing any sounds of distress.

“We need to get him on a gurney and to the hospital, he’s lost a lot of blood,” the paramedic was explaining. Peter put an arm under Valentine’s knees, and one under his back, lifting as Val wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck. “That’s not really safe, back or neck injuries,” the medic started to explain, but gave up as Peter ignored him. Val tried to hold on when Peter put him on the gurney.

“No, don’t,” Val said shaking his head, his hands with fistfuls of Peter’s shirt.

“I’ll stay with you, but you have to let them treat you,” Peter promised, his voice low and soothing.

Val shook his head, he knew Peter was right, but it felt like life or death to stay with him. Peter held his wrist and hand, stroking soothingly, as the EMTs took vitals, and treated wounds. Val’s grip was loosening, and his vision was darkening. He kept jerking like someone who was trying to fight sleep, but eventually Val’s eyes fluttered shut and the time passed in snapshots. He opened his eyes as he was loaded into the ambulance, he saw Peter and tightened his hold on Peter’s hard, even though it sent pain shooting through Val’s palms and wrists where they were scrapped. Val opened his eyes again as the lights went dark, then light again, as he was wheeled into the emergency room, he gripped Peter’s hand again, meeting his eyes. Val was cold, it was so hard to stay awake. 

“Sir, you can’t go with him, to surgery,” someone was explaining and Val shook his head, if Peter wasn’t going, then Val wasn’t going either.

“Please don’t let go,” Val whispered, his hands clinging, ignoring the speaker, his eyes on Peter. Nothing felt safe, he didn’t want strangers pawing at him. He didn’t want to go to surgery, didn’t want to close his eyes, bad things happened when he was unconscious.

Peter whispered something low to the doctor, still holding Valentine’s hand, turning to smile, kissing Val on the uninjured side of his head. They covered Val’s face with a mask, and whatever they pumped into it sucked Valentine away from consciousness, even as his eyes closed, he held tightly to Peter’s hand.


	6. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst is over, and now the healing begins.

Val’s body came awake before he could pop his eyes open. He felt warmth, fingers entangled with his. Val’s head shifted to the side, and he tried to open his eyes. He felt woozy, drunk? Then he felt pain, and memories rushed back - blood, Michaels. Val jerked scrambling back on the bed, he still couldn’t get his eyes to cooperate, and he saw dark shapes, and knew enough to know he wasn’t in his room. His feet hurt when he pressed them into the mattress and tried to move backwards, and he yelped in pain. Memories of broken glass, and bleeding feet. Val’s arm stung like he was bitten and he yanked at a long coiled- snake-? That didn’t make sense. Val felt something on his neck and face, and up his nose and pulled at that too. “No, no, no!” Val was shouting, and hands were grabbing him, and he shoved back hard, tried to slip free, swung his fists and arms, twisted away, there were more hands, pressure on his chest, he was being held down, so he screamed and screamed. Someone jabbed something in his arm, and he jerked away, he turned away, yanking his arm free.

“Valentine,” someone familiar called, and Val forced one eye open, Peter was there, his arms on Valentine’s and Val went toward him, but he was too far, and he was going to fall, but Peter was shoving him back, coming in close, Val was grabbing at him, he registered he might be too rough, but it felt like he was drowning, and they’d done something to him, he had to tell Peter they drugged him, Peter would help.

“help me, help me, they,” Val’s voice tremored, raw, not his own,” drugged me, help me,” Val said, his hands pulling at Peter, trying to get him closer. Val felt Peter’s body next to his, smelled him, safe scents, safe person. Val felt like his mind was tumbling on rough seas, thoughts were slipping by and he couldn’t catch them. He felt lips at his neck and temple, and he threw his arms around Peter, he’d be safe, just had to stay there.

“No wait,” he heard Peter say. “Just, he was startled, he doesn’t need that.”

“He should be out right now,” someone responded back.

“He has the constitution of a lion,” Valentine heard Backstrom say.

“Don’t do that,” Peter said, and he was pulling Valentine closer to him. Val wasn’t sure if Peter was chastising Backstrom or not. “No restraints,” Peter said firmly, and he felt Peter shaking his head.

“No,” Val said, starting to struggle again at the mention of restraints.

“Shh,” Peter was whispering close to his ear, stroking his head and back. “You’re safe, don’t fight okay? No one will hurt you, I promise,” Peter said. Val tilted his head, forced his eyes open with effort and met Peter’s gaze. Peter smiled wide as soon as their eyes connected. “Hey you,” he said, his fingers stroking Val’s cheek.

“Don’t,” Val said shaking his head, “don’t let go, don’t,” Val murmured, his eyes drifting shut again, he had to tell Peter something, but the thoughts were too far away, he couldn’t remember how to talk, and then he was gone into the darkness.

***

“I voted for gay marriage, do you think it’s too late to take it back?” Backstrom asked from his bed. He’d insisted on sharing a room with Valentine. The doctor had wanted to release Backstrom because the wound was relatively minor and certainly didn’t require a hospital stay, but Backstrom had convinced Dr. Deb to back him up, and insist on an overnight observation given his overall poor health.

“We’re not getting married,” Peter said, carefully adjusting himself so as not to disturb Valentine. Valentine was laying half on Peter’s chest. He kept carefully readjusting the IV wires, and tubes delivering extra airflow and oxygen to Valentine. Val had ripped out both when he’d awoken the first time. Peter had been sitting by the bed when Val had startled awake and started panicking. The staff had wanted restraints both physical and chemical, but Peter had talked them out of the physical ones at least, Backstrom, Moto, Almond and Gravely in the background lending their support likely helped, as did Valentine settling down.

“So when I told you to sit on him, you thought I meant,” Backstrom teased.

“I don’t have an explanation,” Peter said, letting Val’s head rest against his chest, it felt so good to have him here. Finding Valentine in the locker room, so much blood, Peter forced himself not to squeeze Valentine too hard. Just the thought of it made Peter’s heart race and panic well up inside of him.

Gravely came in carrying a case file. “Kines needs the briefest of interviews with Valentine when he’s ready,” she said, putting a case file in front of Backstrom. “Niedermayer, Moto, and your statement are enough to close this up, after all, he stabbed you, and punched you,” Detective Gravely eyed Backstrom and then Peter, not asking them, but making it clear she knew they had not been completely honest in their recitation of the events.

“I will get Valentine to give the briefest of statements when he is able,” Backstrom agreed.

“You and Niedermayer are on desk duty until the inquest is finished, so I will get the briefest of statements from Valentine,” she amended, “it’s nice that Valentine won’t have to go through an inquest into whether or not he killed Joe Michaels in self-defense.” Her eyebrow arched letting them know she knew exactly why Michaels had been able to get close enough to “stab” Backstrom and why Peter had to shoot him twice.

“Thanks Nicole,” Peter said softly.

“How is he?” She asked, moving towards Valentine’s bed.

“Still hasn’t woken up really,” Peter answered.

“How’s my boy?” Moto said cheerfully, moving into the room, and Almond and Paquet were on his heels.

“He’s my boy,” Louise “Lou” Finster corrected, entering. She looked at Peter, than Backstrom. Peter couldn’t quite read her face, but he decided she wasn’t thrilled about him being in bed with Valentine. “How is my boy?” she said drawing to the side Peter was not on, as Nicole drifted away.

“Your son is badass, ma’am you shoulda seen the other guy,” Moto said, not quite catching that the awe and kudos were misplaced given the trauma Valentine had suffered. “He must get that from you, because the Lieutenant,” Moto trailed off at a hard look from Backstrom and Almond. “Sorry ma’am.”

“My son is badass,” she smiled, “but I want to know how he’s doing. Have we met? Are you his boyfriend?” she asked, eyes narrowing at Peter. There were several uncomfortable coughs in the room, the team started to shift back and forth on their feet, seeming to want some place to disappear to.

“He’s Valentine’s bodyguard,” Backstrom said, sweetly, laughter in the tone of his voice, but he didn’t give in.

“So he has to be in the bed?” She asked skeptically, her gaze flicking back to Backstrom.

“Unlikely anyone is going to get to Valentine without Peter noticing,” Backstrom confirmed. Lou shot him a look of disbelief, and then grabbed Valentine’s hand. Val was still unconscious, but he jerked his hand back, grabbing a fistful of Peter’s shirt, snuggling closer, he murmured something that Peter couldn’t quite make out.

“Baby, it’s me mom,” Lou said, and she looked a little hurt.

“He’s very heavily drugged,” Peter offered. “He probably doesn’t hear you or know it’s you.”

Lou nodded and went and sat next to Backstrom. “Everett, how is my son?”

“Never underestimate him,” Backstrom said.

“I can see he’s injured very badly, but I have been removed as his emergency contact, and his brother is now the point of contact. What happened to my son?” Lou asked more firmly, glaring at him.  
“Lou, Valentine can tell you everything when he wakes up. I know he wouldn’t want me to,” Backstrom said, and Peter wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard his Lieutenant give a straight answer before.

“He’s my son,” she said.

Backstrom’s hand covered hers, “Your adult son. And he has the right to choose who, where and how much to share about his experiences,” Backstrom parroted Peter’s words from earlier. “He’s stable, and he’s going to be okay,” Backstrom offered a white flag. Lou looked at him and then around the room.

“How much of this is his fault, and how much of it is yours?” Lou asked, bristling. Peter felt himself bristling at the idea that someone would suggest what happened was Val’s fault, all that blood, the assault. Peter closed his eyes and tucked his head further against Val, his hand going to his ears, he didn’t want him to hear, even subconsciously, such an ugly accusation.

“Wasn’t Val’s fault, and me maybe fifteen percent,” Backstrom calculated.

“Was this related to hooking, or thieving?” Lou asked.

“No,” Backstrom answered. Lou nodded pursing her lips.

“Is it because of something you’re working on?”

“Sort of,” Backstrom answered.

“Is he in any more danger? They said that the man who did this was killed?” Lou asked.

“He was, Val isn’t in any danger.”

“But he needs a body guard?” she asked. 

“Protocol,” Everett smiled.

“Have him call me when he wakes up. If I have to come to the barge to get him, you will both regret it,” she said softly, her words a threat and a plea. Backstrom nodded. She kissed Val on the forehead, but he flinched away again, and she left, throwing a last angry look at Peter.

“Okay, you have jobs to do, and I know that because I gave them to you. Now get out of here and let us sleep. Except you Human Pillow,” Backstrom said flicking his eyes to Peter. “If you move and wake him up, I’m authorizing Moto to shoot you.”

“What about you?” Almond asked.

“I was grievously wounded in the line of duty,” Backstrom said, “just ask my Dr. Deb.” Moto handed him a flask, and Backstrom tucked it under his pillow with a smirk.  
The team disbursed, and Backstrom watched Peter. “You’re an idiot.”

“Thank you,” Peter said, his hands tracing lines on Val’s face and arms, trying not to wake him, but wanting to just touch him. Val seemed to curl into his touch, relaxing at the soothing.

“He doesn’t date.”

“I know.”

“The way you’re looking at him says you don’t. God, you’re going to be unbearable when this is over,” Backstrom said crossing his arms, gentle with his bandaged one.

“I’m already insufferable, Sir,” Peter said, a hint of mocking in his tone.

“You’re not having sex on my barge, I am not listening to that,” Backstrom said grumpily.

“Yes, sir,” Peter agreed. Silence stretched between them, and Peter looked up at the Lieutenant, and caught a look of sadness before Backstrom met his gaze and slipped back into his usual disgruntled expression.

“Peter,” Backstrom said softly. “He can’t help how he is, it’s not intentional, he just doesn’t know how to do,” Backstrom struggled. “He’s not good with people in that way, it’s not malicious. I don’t think he even understands how he hurts people when he doesn’t love them back. Love for him has been a twisted and cruel thing, he doesn’t want anything to do with it as he understands it,” Backstrom finished. Peter’s chest hurt. The information wasn’t surprising, and not really something Peter didn’t know – not the details of – but the aftermath of was obvious. He was also surprised, the drugs must be messing with Backstrom’s usual defense mechanism, because that was two sincere conversations he’d has in less than ten minutes. “Everyone he’s ever trusted or counted on has hurt him, he doesn’t believe anything else is possible.”

“I don’t have any expectations,” Peter said.

“You’re goo-goo eyes say otherwise,” Backstrom teased.

***

Val turned his head to the side, trying to crawl back out of the black sleep he was trapped in. His limbs seemed somewhat inclined to abide his request. He tried to take a deep breath and managed to get one eye open, he saw Peter’s face, eyes closed, soft in sleep, inches from his. Val’s hand came up and he saw it was covered in bandages, an iv line in his arm. He lightly touched Peter’s face, he wanted to make sure it was real. It was hard to tell dreams from reality. “Peter,” he whispered.

Peter’s eyes opened suddenly, his hand covering Valentine’s. “I’m here,” he smiled wide at seeing Valentine.

“Everything’s okay,” and it partially sounded like a question and a statement, like Val had started the sentence and forgot where it was going.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Peter assured him knuckles stroking Val’s cheek. “you’re hurt but we got you.” Val’s body backed Peter up, soreness announcing itself from his temples to his toes.

“Mick, Mike, man,” Val shook his head, words sliding along before he could grasp them.

“Michaels is dead,” Peter confirmed.

“Moto killed Backstrom,” Val said, memories piecing together in jagged mismatched ways.

“You’re confused, Michaels hit and stabbed Backstrom,” Peter said, “Backstrom is okay.”

Val knew he was confused, but he knew he wasn’t ‘that’ confused. For some reason a criminal act made more sense. Moto had hit Backstrom and stabbed him so they could accuse Michaels of assaulting an officer and they could justify the use of deadly force and minimize Valentine’s involvement. “I’m confused,’ Valentine repeated in agreement, his other eye opening, both of them fluttering slowly, trying to rouse himself still.

“Water?” Peter asked. Val knew his voice was dry and scratchy, he felt his neck, it hurt, like it was bruised. Peter’s hand joined his fingers, softly stroking. “He choked you, you’re vocal chords sustained minimal damage, but talking, and breathing will be uncomfortable,” Peter supplied.

“Okay,” Val agreed, he sipped from the straw at his lips, and it did hurt to swallow. Valentine shifted his feet and pain stabbed through his soles to his ankles, which caused his legs to jerk, activating pain centers along his legs, and body. Val tensed, his breathing shallow and pained Peter held him, still trying to soothe. Val felt sleepy again, his head was shifting, and it made his heart race, he knew it was drugs forcing him back into oblivion and he didn’t want to go, didn’t like being helpless. Val’s eyes felt heavy and they were closing again, he put one hand on Peter’s cheek, as if he could keep himself from falling that way.

“Do you remember anything,” Peter asked, his lips close to Val’s ear. Val closed his eyes, images danced behind his eyelids, and tears stung his eyes.

“Go home,” Val slurred instead, “not here.”

“We’ll talk to the doctor.”

“No, talk to the Valentine,” Valentine responded groggily.

“The Valentine,” Peter repeated amusement in his tone, “is not in a position to offer a medical opinion.”

“The Valentine has a Valentine opinion, valid,” Val said, as his head tried to lull back.

“As soon as we can, I promise,” Peter said. Val tried to protest, and then he drifted again, reclaimed by the darkness.

***

Val woke again, not sure how much time had passed. Peter had fed him some food from a tray. The sun was out, but Val had made Peter close the blinds, it was too bright. Backstrom had been discharged at some point, but Val didn’t remember that. The doctor had finally arrived, and Val was intent on convincing him he could leave. The doctor had asked Peter to leave and Val had protested until Peter was allowed to sit at his bedside. Val watched the doctor warily, his own hands clasped in front of him fidgeting. There were bandages on both of his palms, wrapped around his hands. He had stitches at his temple, cheek, legs, feet, arms, and a few on his back. Despite being thrown into the glass, most of the damage was to his feet from the glass he stepped on.

“The sexual assault forensic analyst,” and Val flinched when the doctor said that, feeling himself burn with embarrassment, “did a forensic exam. Typically we would have obtained consent,” the doctor explained, “but we didn’t know when you would wake up, and we wanted to preserve the evidence.” Val shrugged.

“When can I leave?” Val asked.

“I’m ready to release you in the next twenty four hours, the difficult part is where to send you?” The doctor explained patiently and with sympathy.

“Home,” Val said.

“You won’t be able to walk for a few more days. You don’t have insurance so unless you can afford private in home health, home isn’t going to be a viable option unless you want to end up back in here in a few days. Your bandages need changing, and you’ll need to eat and go to the bathroom,” the doctor explained.

“I can change my own bandages, and I don’t need to eat,” Val argued, his tone a little petulant. He didn’t want to stay, his heart was racing and he felt trapped. He hated hospitals, and doctors. He just wanted to go home.

“I can stay with him, or he can stay with me,” Peter offered. “My place is one story, and I can help him with anything he needs. I have some medical training, I’d know when to bring him back.” Val and the doctor whipped their heads to look at him.

“I’ll stay with him,” Val said, jerking his thumb towards Peter. Val liked that idea a lot, but if he was being honest, he would have agreed to anything if it got him out of this bed.

“He’s going to need follow up appointments, and assistance with all of his personal care needs,” the doctor said patiently, his tone suggesting that Peter wouldn’t agree if he knew what he was getting into. “Can I see you outside?” the doctor asked Peter. Val watched them through the glass, his fingers nervously twisting together. Valentine would have left already if he could get his feet under him, he felt panicked being here. Not that many people visited hospitals for a good time, but Val had his fair share, and being a former prostitute and drug user had brought him into conflict with police, and hospital personnel. He knew how they felt about him, responsible for his own injuries, depleting resources for good people – people not him.  
Backstrom would bust him out, he was sure of it, especially if Valentine promised he wouldn’t have to help him with anything. Backstrom might want to help a little bit, but Valentine typically took care of Backstrom, reminding him to shower after three day benders, giving him juice and Advil for hangovers. Backstrom wasn’t great at taking care of himself, much less someone else, not in a nursemaid sort of way. Valentine flexed his toes and pain shot through them. The thought of standing on them made Val nauseous. He couldn’t use crutches either, the doctor had put his arm into a sling. When Michaels had tossed him he’d sprained Valentine’s wrist, and he could barely hold a cup of water, much less operate crutches.

Backstrom was in the hallway with the doctor and Peter, and eventually the whole crew was there. Val could see they were arguing, and he just hoped they were all arguing for his release. The doctor looked miserable and Val took that as a good sign. The doctor finally held his hands up in defeat and Valentine smiled wide. 

Val’s instincts were correct, and within a few hours he was in the back of Peter’s car, Moto driving, Backstrom in the passenger, and Peter next to him, holding his hand, smiling wide. When they got to Peter’s house, Val was impressed. It wasn’t big, but it was in a nice neighborhood, well kept, immaculate lawn but not flashy. Peter lifted Valentine out of the backseat, and Val put his arms around Peter's neck. Backstrom rolled his eyes, as Moto grabbed Val’s things from the trunk. Backstrom used Peter’s key to open the door.

Valentine took in his surroundings. There was a kitchen off the entryway, small, perfect for a bachelor. Paquet was in there, putting items in the freezer. “Frozen meals,” she said, closing the door, she walked to Val and kissed his cheek. There was a living room off to the side, and Gravely and Almond were there, sitting on the couch watching the game. They waved briefly, and then started adjusting items in the room, like they’d been helping. They passed a bathroom and laundry room, until they reached the bedroom. Peter nudged the door open and Val was impressed. It was large, a king bed in the middle. There was also a tray which Val guessed had been added for his comfort. A bathroom adjoined the room, and Val saw a giant tube in there. Peter set him on the bed, and Val groaned softly.  
The team had agreed to take turns watching him, and helping Peter. Backstrom had approved a two week vacation for Peter, but everyone on the team agreed to come and help out. Val had insisted all sponge baths were Peter’s jobs and everyone had laughed uncomfortably. Paquet had offered to help with food, she let them know Peter was good at many things but no one should have to be subjected to his cooking. Peter had smiled and thanked her. Gravely and Almond had offered to get supplies and some extra items like tray tables so it was easier on Peter and Valentine.  
Val felt very grateful, and everyone stayed to chat for awhile. He was getting tired, but since he owed all of them for his release, he didn’t think he could punt them. Backstrom chased everyone off, said he was sleeping in the living room, and shot Peter a warning look.

“He can’t do anything yet,” Peter assured him, “and I wasn’t planning to take advantage.” Backstrom took his beer to the living room, and Peter closed the door, offering Valentine his pain medication.

“Where are you staying?” Val asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I can stay with you, unless,” Peter said, but Val patted the bed next to him. Peter slid in, his arms going around Valentine, as Val’s arms wrapped around his waist.

“Not all of me is injured,” Val said softly.

“No," Peter said firmly.

“Just hear me out,” Val reasoned, is voice seductive.

“No,” Peter said again, his hand on Val’s cheek, dropping a kiss there. Val smiled, and made Peter pull off his shirt anyway so he could rest his head against bare chest.

“Feels nice,” Val said, he felt the medication clawing into his brain, trying to suck him into darkness. The pain was less intense, but the hospital IV drugs had been better.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Peter said, stroking his hair.

“It’s one way to get into your bed,” Val teased. Val winced a little. “I’m sorry I left the barge, I thought he was in jail,” Val said softly, “I should have kept my phone on.” Peter squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” Peter said.

Val shook his head. “I heard a noise and I just thought it was Bryan. I don’t know how he found me.”

“He followed you from the barge, honestly, if you hadn’t gone to the gym,” Peter said, shaking his head, “he would have been alone with you for hours. But he followed you from the barge and must have been waiting for a chance. Your workout might have saved you from,” and Peter stumbled to finish, Val guessed he was going to say ‘worse’ or ‘death’, Val wasn’t sure exactly what ending he had escaped, he was just glad he had. 

“How did you find me?”

“Paquet was tracing your phone, and Bryan had heard the argument and called the police,” Peter answered.

“I didn’t see him,” Val said shaking his head.

“He ran as soon as he saw what was happening, but he did eventually call the police.”

“I don’t blame him,” Val said, he shuddered remembering the violence.

“I was going to run, but,” Val said swallowing, “I wasn’t fast enough,” Val said, and tears again forced their way to his eyes, Val tilted his head, trying to will them back down again, for three days he’d been at war with these emotions that wanted to bubble to the surface. Val squeezed Peter harder, his body shaking.

“Are you, can I help?” Peter asked, looking down. Val shook his head, and he felt a tear escape through his clenched eyes. Val didn’t know why, now, when he was likely the safest he had been in a week, his body was suddenly in revolt, and tears welled to the surface, forcing their way from behind his closed lids, and Val bit his lip, but little choking sob sounds started to emerge, he tried to pull away, but Peter held him. “It’s okay Val, I’ve got you, cry if you need to,” Peter said, stroking his head. “I want to cry too,” Peter offered and there was the hint of tears in his voice as well.

“I’m not,” Val said sobs cutting him off, “crying, I’m not a wimp,” he said through tears, and he hated his inability to control it. Val’s body shuddered, and tears came faster, Val kept his face pressed to Peter’s chest, curling in tighter, trying to control it. Peter kissed his cheeks, temple, hair, his hands soothing. “I shouldn’t have taunted him,” Val admitted.

“It’s not your fault,” Peter said, but the words didn’t sink in for Valentine. Everyone said that, and there was always a ‘but’ at the end of it, ‘but stop hooking’, ‘but stop doing drugs’, ‘but stop stealing’, ‘but stop going to clubs’, ‘but stop being gay,’, ‘but stop being attractive’, the phrases that had been flung at him beat down any idea that it wasn’t his fault.

“It wouldn’t have been so bad, if I’d just,” Val shook his head, wiping angrily at the tears.

“Nothing you could have done,” Peter said, “and what you did do is beyond impressive.” Val tensed, and tried to slow his breathing, tried to push down the choking sobs. He was starting to feel embarrassed, and weak. Val turned away, burying his face in a pillow, curling into a ball, his feet hurt as he dragged them across the mattress. He felt Peter behind him, uncertain, the mattress dipped, and Val guessed Peter had started to reach for him and changed his mind.

“I’ll go if you want me to,” Peter offered. Val didn’t know how he felt about that request. He didn’t want Peter to leave, but he was humiliated to have him stay. His whole body was alight with pain, and pain made him not as able to maintain his mask and persona. Val bit his own lip, and tried to negotiate with his body about how they were going to proceed.

Peter shifted again, and Val felt panic, he turned his head, “please!” Val pleaded. Not sure what he was asking. ‘please don’t leave, please don’t let go, please don’t give up, please don’t hate me, please don’t think I’m a worthless whore…’ Val looked down, mentally chastising his body, those were exactly the kinds of reactions he had just told his body not to do. Peter moved closer, his arms going around Valentine, and Valentine pressed his back to Peter’s chest. Well, since Peter was there, it would be weird not to snuggle, Val reasoned in his own mind. Peter kissed his neck, and shoulders. Val breathed a little easier, the occasional tear was still leaking from the corner of his eye, but he’d managed to quell the sobbing. Val stared ahead of him, at Peter’s wall, tried to focus on controlling himself.  
Peter’s kisses and soothing hands were causing him to relax inch by inch, kinder memories of being on the barge were fighting for attention with painful ugly gym memories. Val held Peter’s hands, pulling him closer. “I,” Val said, and licked his lips. “I taunted him at the gym too,” Val confessed. “It made him really angry.”

“He deserved whatever you said, you didn’t deserve his reaction,” Peter said quickly and firmly.

“I told him it didn’t hurt, so he got rougher,” Val said.

“I don’t know that anything you said or did could have made it better or worse. I’m not sure he was going to let you live. I’m glad you stabbed him, that was smart thinking,” Peter said.

“I don’t know if I was thinking,” Val said.

“You’re very brave,” Peter offered.

“I think brave is a nice word for people who do stupid things,” Val returned.

“That’s not how I mean it. I don’t know of anyone else who could endure that, and still fight back. Backstrom takes an afternoon off when he gets a splinter,” Peter said, smiling. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“Necessity,” Val answered, his eyes drifting closed, the medication was easing some of the pain and the pills were shoving him off the edge of consciousness. He hated that, when he did drugs he liked euphoria, not unconsciousness, it made him feel helpless. As he drifted away, he held onto the feeling of Peter’s arms around him, he’d be okay, he was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are good, but comments are better.


End file.
